“I’m so sorry, Cal.” My mind scrambles for something else to say, the words having spilled from my mouth before I had time to think, but Callum gives a bitter laugh.
“I don’t want your sympathy; I just want to get my wife pregnant.”
I try to think on my feet. “What about…adoption? Surely that’s another option?”
Callum shakes his head. “Maddie tried to persuade me. Said if we were able to adopt a baby then we could bring it up as our own.” He places his elbows on the table and inches closer. He reminds me of a spy who’s about to divulge top-secret information.
“But it wouldn’t be mine. Every moment of every day, I’d be reminded that I couldn’t father a child with her.”
“But ye cannae think like that,” I burst out. “If ye do, it’ll ruin yir life.”
Callum lets out a forced laugh and I realise it’s too late, he’s already destroyed inside.
“Wise words,” he states, flatly. “However, the bottom line is that I don’t want a kid that’s not mine.”
“What, not even a sperm donor? I hear they’re very successful. I dinnae know all the facts, but don’t they try to get the best match they can. Use someone who has yir hair and eye colour, even yir build?”
He lifts the pint glass to his lips but stops halfway. “What, like a twin?”
“Ach, away with ye,” and I attempt a smile. “Now, I dinnae say that.”
A shudder sweeps down my spine and alarm bells ring inside my head. I’m aware it’s just the beer talking, but I’m wary all the same. I glance up and Callum’s eyes are suddenly clear. The tears have all gone and his expression has completely changed.
“You could be the one, Jamie. Me and you: we’re the same person, split from the same egg. If you got Maddie pregnant, technically it would be the same as if I’d fathered the child.”
“Stop talking out of yir arse,” I object. “Whatever you’re thinking, it stops right nah. I cannae sleep with yir wife. Are ye mad? And besides, I wouldnae do something like that. It’s wrong and I couldnae live with myself afterwards.”
But Callum isn’t listening.
“Please, Jamie, do this one thing for me, for Maddie. All she wants is a child of her own. If it was you who got her pregnant, it would be as if I had done it. Can’t you see the gift you would give us both.”
I want to help, but what he’s asking is beyond my own ethics, beyond my comprehension.
“Och, maybe ye should talk to Maddie first; see what she thinks.”
Callum shakes his head vigorously.
“No, we can’t tell her. She’d go ballistic. Even if she wanted to go through with it, she’d deny herself because she wouldn’t wish to betray me. She’s an old-fashioned girl with old-fashioned values. Even if she had the chance she wouldn’t take it, because of me.”
I sigh with relief.
“So, she would ne’er agree?”
Callum brings his hand close to his head and clicks his fingers.
“Wait; I have an idea. Didn’t I hear something earlier about a quiz night here on Wednesday night?”
“Aye, ye did.”
“Perfect. Then we’ll bring Maddie along.”
I feel my eyebrows knit together. “I’ve already invited her, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s simple. She wouldn’t sleep with you knowingly, but…if we get her drunk enough, she wouldn’t know the difference and we could swap places for the night.”
I jump to my feet. I’ve heard enough.
“I’ll nae be part of no such thing, do ye hear?” I hiss at my brother. “I’m sorry ye cannae have any kin of yir own, but this is wrong on so many levels.”
I grab my coat from the back of the chair and storm out of the pub. All I can see is a haze of red around my eyes. How could Callum ask me to do such a despicable thing to the woman he loves?
“Jamie, wait,” Callum shouts after me as I head for the car, but I ignore him. I’m angry and hurt that he’d ask me to do something so appalling, so unforgivable, but then heavy footsteps come up behind me and strong hands grip my shoulders.
I spin around and glare at my drunken brother.
“Enough,” I cry. “You’ve crossed the line and dinnae ken what you’re saying.”
I march back to the car and fling open the driver’s door and jump inside. Callum chases after me.
“Jamie, please. Just hear me out.”
I start the engine and thrust it into first gear, but then turn and face him.
“Either ye shut up about me getting Maddie pregnant or ye can find another way to get home.” He hesitates, but then climbs inside.
I drive like a madman, unable to think of anything except what my brother has had the audacity to ask of me, until I take a bend a little too sharply and almost lose control.
“For Christ’s sake, take it easy,” Callum cries, but I can’t. I glare at him and press the pedal even harder as I look back at the road, barely focused on what’s in front of me, miles away inside my own head. Inwardly, I curse my brother over and over as my anger simmers within me. I’m barely in control and I’ve a real fight on my hands.
By some miracle, we make it home in one piece. I drive through the gates, break sharply and kill the engine. Without a backward glance, I head straight for the farmhouse. Alasdair has left the downstairs lights on, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I look down at my watch: it’s eleven-fifteen. I guess he’s in bed, and Maddie, too.
I make my way towards the study, where there’s a full decanter of whisky, for I now badly need a drink. I open the door and switch on the light. The room smells musty, of old books and cigars, and I head straight over to the oval bar server and pour myself a stiff drink, knocking back the golden liquid in one shot. It burns my throat, but I quickly pour another.
The door creaks and I spin around to see Callum standing there. He’s no longer defiant. Now he stands before me, his shoulders hunched over and his eyes pleading. I turn away from him and pour myself yet another shot of whisky.
“Ye need to go to bed,” I state, placing the stopper back into the decanter.
I’m surrounded by silence, so I assume Callum’s taken my good advice, and I let out a sigh and turn around. He’s still standing there.
“Dinnae ye hear me?” I snap. “Time for talking’s over.” I go over to a high-backed chair that faces a fire that’s no longer lit, and there I sit down, swirling the drink around the crystal tumbler.
To my dismay, Callum comes and sits beside me. He coughs, clears his throat and I look up to see the image of a broken man, one now wringing his hands. He’s clearly desperate for help, but I’m not the one he should turn to.
“Jamie,” he says in a small, defeated voice, “I want you to know our marriage was perfect in every way until she wanted a child. Not being able to give her the one thing she desires most in the world haunts me and has left the deepest furrows of pain in my heart. Up until that moment I’d provided her with everything she ever wanted. It was me who put up the capital for the flower shop when it was a goal she thought she’d never reach. I supported her through her training, watched her determination to succeed grow, like the flowers in her shop. I’ve always loved Maddie because of her unreasonable wildness. Every day with her is a challenge, but I wouldn’t change her for the world. She’s been so strong these past months, much stronger than I ever could be, and I feel myself growing weak.”
“Cal, I hear what you’re saying, but what you’re asking…”
“Do you not think it kills me to beg my own brother to do what I should be man enough to do myself? And the fact is…I’m ashamed. Ashamed I’ve dropped so deep into my pit of despair that I’m asking my own flesh and blood to do something that goes against everything we’ve ever believed in. But there’s simply no other way, not for me…not for Maddie.”
I shake my head. The booze is starting to hit me, but I’m still in control.
“Ye have nae right,” I declare, “to ask me t
o do such a thing, to ask…anyone.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? But I implore you to reconsider and think this through. I know what I’m asking goes beyond brotherly love, but I’m a drowning man begging you to throw me some rope.”
“I cannae do it, Callum; I just cannae,” and I watch my brother push his fingers through his hair, slowly inching his chair a little closer. His voice becomes low, conspiratorial, just like back in the pub.
“All I’m asking is for you to think about it. The quiz night is two days away. It’s just one night with her, Jamie, one night that could change everything.”
“Och, so let’s say for argument’s sake, I agree to go along with this crazy idea of yours. What if I sleep with her and she doesnae fall pregnant. Let’s face it, the stakes are stacked against us. What then?”
“Then at least I know we tried, and gave it our best shot.”
Before I can say anything, Callum pulls himself from his seat and pats me with affection on the shoulder.
“Two days, Jamie. Please think about it. That’s all I ask,” and I remain noncommittal as I watch him take himself off to bed.
Chapter 6
Maddie
I open the kitchen door to find Alasdair sitting alone by the fireside.
My gaze sweeps around the room.
“Hey,” I say lightly, “where’s Tweedle-dee and Tweedledum?” but he doesn’t crack a smile, and so I hurry over to him.
“Alasdair, what’s wrong? Has something happened to one of the farm animals. Is that why neither Jamie or Callum are here?”
He shakes his head then turns to stare into the flames. He lets out a deep sigh and points to the chair opposite.
“Sit down, lass. I’ve somethin’ I need to tell ye.”
“Why? What is it? What’s happened?”
He lets out another long sigh, turns to me and pats my hand gently. I look down. His knuckles are gnarled with age and his weathered skin feels as tough as old shoe leather. I curl my fingers around the palm of his hand and hold his fingers tight.
“’Tis Callum,” he says. “He’s gone out…drinkin’.”
“Sorry, he’s what?”
He points a thumb towards the door. “Aye, him and Jamie have gone into town.”
“But I never heard them leave.” I pull my hand away and turn to stare at the door, as if by doing so he’ll walk through and prove the old man wrong. I wait, but when he doesn’t materialise, I realise that what Alasdair has said is true. My cheeks burn with humiliation. “You mean he just up and left without a word?”
Alasdair nods. “He said he needed a drink and not one he could find in the house. I dinnae know what came over him. One minute he was fine and the next…”
“He turned into Mr Hyde?”
Alasdair looks alarmed then nods. “Aye, that’s about it, lassie.”
I dig into my jeans pocket for my phone, dial Callum’s number and clutch the mobile to my ear. I wait urgently through four rings, but get his voicemail and hang up.
I want to scream out loud what an inconsiderate arsehole he is for abandoning me—like this, without a thought. I then try ringing Jamie, but when it connects, I hear a familiar ringtone sounding out in the room, from where his mobile sits on the windowsill.
Defeated, I shove my phone back into my pocket, hardly noticing Alasdair get up from his chair. Nor do I register the two pieces of Salmon he takes out of the oven.
“Maddie, are you all right, lass?”
I stand up and stare vacantly in his direction. He places the baking tray he’s holding down onto the side, making his way over to me and steers me over to the table.
“Come on, sit down,” he insists.
“Is dinner ready?” I say, absently.
A memory flashes through my mind: I’m nine years old again and in the foyer of one of the many foster homes I’d had to endure. The Smyth children were simply immature psychopath’s, the spotty teenager of whom, no older than fourteen, blocks my way. He prods a stubby finger into my chest. It hurts, but I don’t cry.
“Oh, look, it’s little orphan Annie,” he teases. “If it isn’t the miserable kid that nobody wants.”
He laughs, and his younger brother, standing next to him, pinches my arm. I yelp and he too laughs out loud. “You stink like dog poo,” he cries and holds his nose as he runs down the corridor to tell all his friends.
An involuntary shiver escapes me.
I push the terrible ordeal to the furthest corner of my mind. All I want is a man to love me. I want Callum to protect and respect the person I am. But I’m afraid of our future: the emptiness waiting for me is like a physical punch in the chest.
I sit, eating my meal as though I haven’t a care in the world, but the fish tastes bland and small pieces get stuck in the back of my throat. The wine is sour and tastes like vinegar in my mouth, yet I do my best to swallow it down.
“I think I’d best have an early night,” I say and press my fingers to my forehead.
“Do ye have a headache?” Alasdair asks.
I nod and stand up from the table. “Yes. I think it’s the start of a migraine. I’d best go and lie down.”
Alasdair shakes his head. “Aye, lass. Sounds like the right thing to do. Off ye go. I’ll clear up here.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“’Tis no trouble, and I’ll see ye in the mornin’.”
I give him a hug and he pecks me on the cheek before I pull away and make my way to the door.
“I’m sorry,” Alasdair says. “About Callum.”
I turn to face him. “It’s isn’t your fault. You’re not his keeper.”
Alasdair nods and pulls out his pipe from his cardigan pocket. He places the end in his mouth and sucks in fresh air. “That maybe so, but I want ye to know: I dinnae agree with his behaviour tonight.”
I force a smile. “Goodnight, Alasdair. I’ll see you in the morning.” I turn away and leave him standing by the fireside, then head for the seclusion of the Garden House.
As soon as I close the door behind me, I burst into tears. I feel such a fool. I can’t believe he went into town without saying a word. I try to figure out why he would do such a thing, feeling humiliated, abandoned, angry, and upset. And I’m also afraid. Perhaps he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, or even need me any longer. I cover my face with my hands, allowing hot tears to pour down my cheeks, the day he asked me to marry him springs into my mind. I can see him as clearly as if he were standing right in front of me.
We were out on a lake in a rowing boat. It was a hot summer’s day. The local park was filled with young lovers enjoying a lazy Sunday. The lake was surrounded by a multitude of weeping willows and a family of swans adorned the water. It was simply idyllic.
The day out was all Callum’s idea. He’d brought a small picnic and a fishing rod, which he insisted only he should carry. We bobbed about on the water for at least an hour, eating our sandwiches and enjoying the sun on our backs. He’d appeared a little fidgety that day, and out of the blue, he sat poker straight and proclaimed his fishing line had a bite. I hadn’t seen it tug, but Callum insisted he’d caught something big and started reeling in the line. I sniggered when he told me the fish was going to be huge, and I played along and laughed even louder when he faked losing his balance and almost fell into the water. He was having a whale of a time acting juvenile and I didn’t want to spoil his fun.
To my surprise, the line suddenly shot out of the water, and I’m sure my mouth gaped wide open when I realised it wasn’t a fish at the end of the line, not of any size, but a small black box hooked onto the float. Callum reeled it in and then sat down, the box in the palm of his hand.
I inched closer. “How did that get there?” I asked, somewhat puzzled. When he looked up at me, I swear his eyes glistened, then he took my hand in his own.
“I love you,” he whispered and opened the box. Inside, sat a sparkling solitaire diamond ring. I pressed my lips together. I hadn’t s
uspected a thing. Callum pulled the ring from the box and held it up towards me. “Make me the happiest man alive. Say you’ll be my wife.”
I now twist the two gold rings on my wedding finger, one of which has adorned it since that very day, but then I drop my hand and let out a sigh. Opening my eyes, I wipe away the last of my tears and head for the stairs and my bedroom.
I undress, then get into bed. I lie awake, waiting for Callum to come home, surprised sometime later when I hear a car door slam. I glance at the clock. It isn’t even midnight. I listen for the downstairs door to open, but hear male voices heading towards the farmhouse, instead. And so I lie in wait as another hour passes before Callum finally makes an appearance.
I turn to watch him enter the room.
“Where the hell have you been?” I ask.
Callum lets out a deep sigh and sits on the edge of the bed. He kicks off his shoes and throws them into the corner of the room. The first thing that strikes me is that Callum isn’t drunk; not what I expected at all. Although I can smell alcohol on his breath, he appears relatively sober.
“Callum, I think I deserve some kind of explanation at least.”
He gets up off the bed and takes off his shirt and trousers.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says and heads towards the bathroom.
“Callum?”
I’m infuriated by the way he dismisses me so easily, but try to keep a lid on my frustration. I’m struggling, though. The shower comes on and a loud screech announces that the cubicle door has closed. I listen to every sound he makes until I hear him switch off the water, then he walks back into the bedroom, a bath towel wrapped around his waist.
“So, are you going to explain what happened tonight?” I ask.
“What can I say? I needed fresh air.”
“And you had to go all the way to Camburgh to find some.”
“I guess. It can get pretty stifling around here at times.”
“And you’re not going to at least apologise for your behaviour?”
“You think I should?”
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